Barriers
by Destined To Repeat
Summary: He's learned long ago not to ask about these things.


(Warning: Major movie spoilers, extremely slight plot differences, written a million years ago)

Alphons Heiderich frowns at the sky as he closes the door behind him. For the third night in a row he knows it is going to rain—although for the moment it's only a drizzle. Alphons puts his coat on absently, hoping that the rain won't get in the way of the rocket launch.

He doesn't have to turn around to know who is running up beside him, either. It's just another thing he knows…or, at least, expects.

"Alphons, wait!"

Alphons turns, and immediately takes in Edward's bedraggled appearance. He looks like he'd run across half the city. "Edward? Where have you been? I was just about to leave without you." He glances again at his companion's muddy coat, filthy shoes, and loose, tousled hair, and carefully overlooks them. He's learned long ago not to ask about these things. "Come on, we're going to be late to the rocketry meeting."

Edward rests his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Wait…wait a minute…Alphons, you can't go to that meeting…"

The taller boy blinks at him in confusion. "Why not?"

"It's a trick…" he wheezes. "They're going to use the rockets to go through the Gate!"

"Who is 'they'? And what's this 'Gate'?" Alphons Heiderich narrows his eyes. "Edward, if this is about that fantasy world of yours again…"

"It's not fantasy, it's _real!_" he says angrily. "And I don't know who 'they' are but they're trying to use our rockets to destroy my world—Alphons, we have to stop them—!"

The other man takes a deep breath and tries his best to be patient. "Look…Assuming there really is an…alternate dimension…thing…I still don't think that the German Rocket Science Association particularly wants to _destroy_ anybody…"

"Alphons," the eighteen-year-old says, his voice a tone of desperate that begs the other boy to believe him. "I know it's hard for you to understand, but _I'm not making this up!_ There really is another world on the other side of the Gate, with people in it that live and die just like we do. They're not imaginary and they're not worthless—they're _humans_ whose lives are just as valuable as ours!"

Edward tries to come closer but Alphons pushes him away—slightly harder than he intended to. The former alchemist is caught off-guard and falls with a thud onto the wet sidewalk. "Take your own advice, Edward!" he nearly screams at the blonde, who stares back at him in shock. "You think that this world is some kind of…some kind of dollhouse, complete with plastic homes and businesses and _people_, with dreams that are pointless unless they can help get you home. Do you think that everything here means _nothing?_ You think that I can throw away my life's work to save this…this alternate dimension that I don't even know _exists??_"

The surprise doesn't completely leave Edward's face even as he smiles weakly. It looks like that small gesture takes a lot of effort. "But that's why we're scientists…We do what the rest of the world thinks is impossible."

"Gah…It's not about whose universe is more important." Alphons rubs his head in frustration, running a hand through his hair as though he would like to pull it out. Finally he takes a breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they are painful and sad…and determined. "I have tuberculosis, Edward." Shock and horror flit across the older boy's face, soon replaced by pity and disappointment—disappointment that Alphons didn't trust him enough to tell him before. "I don't have much longer to make an impression. I _will_ change the world." Alphons Heiderich draws himself up to full height and turns to leave. "I _am_ going to make the first rocket ship."

Edward staggers to his feet, unsteady on his abused prosthetics, and tries to follow the seventeen-year-old. Alphons keeps walking.

"Alphons! Al! Al!!"

At last he stops. Alphons turns slightly, and Edward stiffens under the intensity of his gaze. "Don't think I don't see how you look at me sometimes…like I'm the person you wish I was. I'm Alphons _Heiderich_, Edward, not Alphonse Elric. Get that through your head—I'm not your dead little brother!"

And Edward stands paralyzed in the rain, doesn't even move as his best friend disappears down the street. His hair and coat are soaked through but he stays motionless, staring numbly straight ahead, into the blur that is all he can see anymore. Then finally his head lowers and his fists clench. And in a voice that is barely louder than the rain he mutters, "He's not dead."


End file.
